Soldier Of One
by LilianxJane
Summary: 'Between worlds exists a realm of solemnity. It's neither good nor evil, it only breeds human emotion. Now the time has come for the fate of a lone soldier to confront his evils, and solemn is where he'll reside.' One shot, The Lavender Road prequel.


**Soldier Of One**

* * *

He woke to the gentle patter of rain outside his window and rolling thunder grumbling far away.

He gently pushed the blankets off, immediately feeling the warmth of sleep slip away. All he could hear was muffled, even those tears from the sky.  
Still, his hearing beyond let him know all that surrounded. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up, rubbing the crust from his eyes.

Standing up, his bare feet pressing against the freezing floor, and he walked towards the window.  
The glass was sprinkled with rain drops as even more fell. The sky was so dark, yet he knew from the clock that it was mid day.  
The clouds swirled above the place, tumultuous, their pale hues suggesting a long, milder storm than first thought.

There wasn't anything beside now. Certainly neither yesterday nor tomorrow, for now it was just now and only now that would dominate. How old must he grow before he learns that?

A stream of water came running from his building's gutters, towards the soaked grass below. He could tell just by the temperature of the glass that it was under forty degrees outside.  
Before even getting dressed, he'd made up his mind to see Lady before he left. Someone else would be waiting for him at the harbor, in the afternoon time . . . Their destination vague.  
Still, that woman bore such a resemblance to his mother, he couldn't say no to himself. Grief and love for a memory overpowered all other rationale.

* * *

She saw the shock register on his face, even before he hid it.

Mom's face, there was _no doubt_.

For a moment he was silent, not sure what to say.

"You're the one who lost a mother and a brother to evil twenty years ago. I need your help to stop him . . . Mundus."

A small smile played on his lips, like he heard the best news ever. Something he's been waiting for for a long time, but he wouldn't survive it, unless he made himself crazy enough.  
He wasn't sure if he could actually trust this stranger. He certainly had no reason to do so . . . But still, it was the face that made him forget trust. It was like getting to talk to mom again.  
Crazy thoughts ran through his head, a wide array of ideas that were honestly quite ludicrous.

"How do you know that, how do you know _any of that_!?" He tried to muster a rough tone with her, maintaining his pistol-sights on her, "Explain it before I get bored."

"I'm not your enemy. I can help you Dante, I know the place where Mundus hides, where he rests until he can rip through to this world again. But, I can't stop him alone." Trish replied, calm but urgent.

Sensing her words had still not gotten through, she chose a separate subject.

"I can help you find peace of mind . . . Of what happened to Vergil." She stated lowly, hoping it would convince him, "His fate rests with Mundus' mind."

" . . ." He took a pained breath as his hand wavered, and he ultimately rested Ivory by his side.

* * *

That was the moment he chose to take her word for it. The job sounded harsh, but that's the point, it's supposed to be.  
This was something he'd been waiting for, for so god damn long . . . How many years had he spent letting this rage consume him?

Finally, now he could finish Dad's mess, and this lifetime of father's sins could end. After finishing dressing, he left the bedroom and went down to his office.  
Using a lighter, he torched a plate specially made for burning, and placed it on the coffee table to his right. The fire crackled and popped. Each scarlet flame radiated heat.

Dante drew up a stick from his desk, a thin little wooden reed, and from his small breadbox, grabbed a marshmallow from a clear plastic bag.

It was the perfect day to curl up and do something nice for himself before he went to the island, who knows how long he would stay there.  
The white muffin crumpled and browned in color as he held it above the supernatural flames, their parent-lighter being one from another world.

This frigid cold would bother humans too much for them to walk about much during the day.

The air was rather dusty in this place, making Dante's nose itch.

He inhaled sharply before letting out a sneeze, "If only I had enough money for an air purifier . . . " He chuckled, "I could spoil myself a bit."

As he munched on the grilled morsel, the man took a piece of paper and a pen. He started writing for someone, the very person he felt returned.  
He knew this was a dumb move to do this, but it still gave him comfort. He knew that the sleeping felt no more pain while the living remain scarred.

A truth that defined him and this reality.

* * *

'Hey mom . . . I can't take this anymore. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I couldn't help him.'

. . . _Good start_ , he thought.

'I tried to drag him out, I wanted him beside me, helping me, but he just didn't want to.'

 _Eh, that's not really true, I'd just want him here, he doesn't have to help_

"Let's try-," He started making some changes, and rewrote it on a new piece of paper.

Now it read: 'I tried to drag him out, I wanted him to be here with me, but he made a different choice.'

"Much better." He commented to himself.

'I suppose I knew he was always going to do that. He'd grown to value power more than any familial sentiment.  
His last words were for dad, I know you stressed his reverence. But . . . I can't let it go. I've tried to accept that he left, but it only ever comes back to haunt me.

Now too, Vergil does the same.

Consider it another notch in the family's long line of bad choices. Not that Dad made a bad decision sticking up for humanity, we happen to agree there.

Mom, I miss you so much. I promise, Mundus will pay for it. No matter what it takes. I promise, I will try to find my way back to hell. I'll drag that stubborn bastard out by his ear . . .

I'm sorry Vergil.'

* * *

He felt he could write no more. This'd be his little secret, just a small little note. He marked it, 'anniversary,' and threw it down at the drawer.  
As he shut it closed, the front door jangled open with a little swing. He heard sultry footsteps approach as he looked up to see who he knew that had to be.

"Hey, what's up?" He heard the familiar voice of Lady, his only female friend.

"Hey there babe," He smirked and placed his hand on his chin, "I'm touched, you actually stopped by."

Lady rolled her eyes, "Ah . . . Don't even start with me ya little idiot."

Dante's smirk grew even more as he laid back on the chair and lifted his leg, "So what do you want?" He asked.

Lady moved slowly toward him, her weapons metallically clinking ever so often. Still, he ignored her purpose for a moment.

There was something she'd been thinking about.

"I heard you got a job recently, need some company?" She asked.

Dante stared at her beautifully mismatched eyes for a moment. As much as he would like to work with her again like usual, this time it's best to leave her behind.  
He couldn't take the mere thought that she'd be put in danger, even _if_ she can defend herself. The work of many men built their lives, but it was up to them to make it from here.  
He hoped she'd speak the words he'd want to hear to make his demons run away, not that she would.

"Sorry, this is my job alone." He huffed slowly, "Could ya maybe keep an eye on the office while I'm gone?"

Lady raised an eyebrow at him, "Why? You never want me near your stuff, what's going on?"

"What gave you that impression?" He laughed, and pushed himself off the chair, to face her.

An awkward silence flooded the room for a moment, before she chose to break it, "Never mind, I just-. . ."

"You want to go out on a date?" He smirked, "I think I'd rather leave, since ya might bite or shoot me, or something . . ." He paused thinking about it for a moment.

"That doesn't sound half bad actually."

There was so much he could tell her, so much he could say, though he chose to leave it at that, as he always did.  
She felt like a rose thorn, pricking him in the side of his neck despite the pleasant fragrance. Recently, they'd been different.  
The more they stood next to each other, the more he felt strange.

Lady closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, textbook-irritation. Lightly she gave him a punch on the shoulder.

"That's not funny," She got into a snit, grumpily yelling the words at him, "Anyway, good luck."

Dante studied her face carefully, memorizing her features. She was a good friend when all was said and done, and part of him suspected that gruff front was just that; a front.  
He'd grown to like that a bit more as time went by, it was charming almost, as she chose not to express her hatred as often anymore. He may really miss her bitchy attitude after all.  
She remained his power, a symbol of what he fought for through all the stupidity of humans, all the insufferable arrogance that could cloud up the plot.

In the end, he knew that there was a reason he kept fighting, despite his supposed 'superiority.'

Ah, what the hell, he knew he'd be leaving for a while, why not just sneak this in? He walked up to her and pulled her close to him, unexpectedly wrapping his arms around her.

His hug was warm, but in the right way, one that was personable and sweet-natured and his big, strong arms were surprisingly comforting.  
She squeezed him back, something he didn't expect, but something he felt to be pleasant. It wasn't often they even made contact, so this was nice.

"Don't get in trouble without inviting me, got it?" He commented once he pulled back.

"Fine . . ." Her hard face softened, "Once you come back, we should hit up Schmitty's. Heard they got a new microbrew that's awesome. I'm sure you'll like it."

"Yeah right." He was back to teasing again, "The last couple of days, you brought me nothing but shitty beers from the dollar store. When I get back, just give me a good job."

"I see you're still cold!" She shook her head, "I'll find something good as a welcoming."

With a knowing smirk she walked away, slipping on her sunglasses again as she left him behind in the office, alone with his thoughts.

She still was his pleasure, giving him that human contact he needed to stay sane, even if she was barbed about it. Still, he admired that tenacity in her.  
Not that it was particularly his fault, but she'd become a lot less volatile over the years, her general demeanor was a lot less condescending towards him.

He knew how to take care of himself anyway, real-world consequences tended not to apply to him. Her comments often had no affect, maybe that was the reason she'd tempered her attitude.

He smirked to himself.

"I'll miss ya too, Lady." He muttered.

It was just an island, there'd be no problem. Mundus was generally known for his massive strength and unbound rage.

Dante had nothing but his own strength to use, his need for revenge granting him life beyond life. Perhaps this too would apply to his strength, he didn't really know just how powerful he'd become.

He pulled his amulet out from his shirt and stared at the red jewel, held within a silver crest.

No one remembered where he was when he'd realized existence was just a game. The more seriously he took things, the harder the rules became.  
Echoing in his mind, he found out how little he'd accomplished. In the grand scheme of things, what he did didn't amount to much, apart from that one time he put a stop to Vergil.  
Even then, he felt the loss unnecessary, one that subtracted more from his history than it gave to him. As it goes, the sleeping feel no more pain, but the living are scarred.

* * *

 _"Give that to me."_

 _"No way, you got your own!"_

 _"Well, I want yours too."_

* * *

Dante knew he had to think of something, something that would give him a leg up before he left to the island. If he might die, he'd go down fighting, though he was confident otherwise.  
Satisfying the anger boiling within him, every time the name Mundus was mentioned, he'd find hordes of demons to slaughter. If his heart were still alive, it might've broken by now.  
And that's exactly what he did for those who desired a dark fate, for the other Arkham's of the world. He spent most of the rest of his time alone in his office.

. . .

* * *

 **Much later, on Mallet Island, he found himself inside the dark cathedral**

* * *

. . .

Slowly he labored the double-wood-doors open and entered the great hall. First there was silence. Then, there was thunder crashing overhead, as if it were the fury of the gods.  
The sounds tumbled toward the castle through the darkened clouds, spreading out into the night. It hailed the promise of rain to the lands below, there, diseased life wanting for nothing more.  
His memories left within his office, there wasn't much he found himself left with to say.

Within the columns of lightning, he saw the black figure again, the man standing over the balcony. Once he heard him, the demon turned to face him . . . Growling.

"Fantastic, you again." The slayer said casually as he slung Alastor over his shoulder, "Thought you'd screwed off back to Gehenna."

The knight grumbled as he raised the zweihander, lifting it from his waist.

"You're an honorable man, I give ya that much." Dante commented. "You woulda been the perfect kinda guy to choose your own path, fight for what's right."

He paused, then motioned with his free hand to the man.

"-The whole good book thing et cetera, et cetera." He chose to add.

A moment of silence befell the two in their standoff.

Before he got the chance to say something more, Nelo Angelo stabbed the ground with his broadsword. Lifting his hands, the knight began to scream.  
Light erupted from nowhere, cascading across Dante's serious expression as he wondered what in the hell was happening. The light was a blue flame, one that he felt burn slightly.  
Then again, what else should he expect from a demonic servant?

The slayer slightly winced and covered his eyes after sometime.

"Nice light show, it shoulda come with a seizure warning." He quipped as the light died down, and so too did its wind as he put his arm back down.

What he saw once he looked back at the knight was something that struck him oddly, it was such a familiar face. Where had he seen it before?  
Its slicked back silver hair . . . The cold look in its red eyes. He froze for a second, trying to wrap his head around the resemblance . . . Why was it so familiar!?  
What just happened? The entire thing felt like Deja Vu, but in the sense of a freight train collision.

This was wrong, all wrong. That face . . . It looked like his own. Was this real?

 _'I can help you find peace of mind . . . Of what happened to Vergil.'_ The siren's words recycled themselves in his head.

He said nothing, instead, giving a sad long look at what had become of his brother. _This_ is where he'd gone to, what he'd become after the fall.  
Under a saddened breath, he felt his heart begin to race, and the morale of his soul faltered to the revelation. What a god damn joke, a stupid, universal twist of the karmic knife in his eye.

"He took you too." He murmured as Vergil roared to the heavens.

The knight didn't know why, he just felt to scream. He remembered where he'd come from, yet the faces remained hazy. The sight of the crimson slayer brought that pain back.  
It was time to make him die, time for an old score to be settled as his poisoned mind wouldn't let him free. Three circles controlled his thoughts, and this pyramid was what Dante sought to destroy.  
With all his being, he sought them to end. His fists tightened as this was the one thing he didn't want to have happen again. For the sake of the mission, for the greater good, he just flushed it out.  
He pretended it was someone else, put the family features out of his mind as he strode on, eventually coming to view the figure as a representation of himself.

That made it easier, the idea being he was destroying himself, knowing still that it was really the man who'd come from Earth.

Once the fight was over, Dante gazed on with a heavy heart as his own brother, his direct flesh and blood howled out agony and burnt out in a blue flame; out of sight, out of mind.

"I'm sorry . . ." He whispered to himself, "To everyone, to all my friends, I loved you. But . . . I have to leave."

* * *

 **The End**

* * *

 **Thank you for reading.**

I wanted to do this for awhile and it's finally here :) What do you guys think of this?

 **Beta Reader: Angel Wolf Here, just want to say this chapter was influenced by 'A Tout Le Monde' by Megadeth, and only that song.  
It's special to me, and the somber nature of this felt fitting for the tone, so I chose to narrow the song selections to just that one. That is all.**


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